The Autumn Party
by Koriroko
Summary: Clary Morgenstern is doing volunteer work when a blond boy offers her coffee. Magnus Bane owns a club and has his sights set on a blue-eyed boy. Isabelle Lightwood is starting work in modeling. And Jonathan Morgenstern is just trying to keep his family together. Robberies, drug deals, and a party is the plot. -Sixteen different PoV's, interwoven plot, and lots of pairings.-
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Follows 16 POV's, multiple pairings, a lot of stuff going down. Interwoven Plotlines. All human AU. Might become OOC. Possible long chapters. The story is worth it for the ride.

Rated T, may become M (If readers request it)

* * *

The Autumn Party

Chapter One

Clary was preparing a painting to be hung when another one falls.

"Ah, shit," Clary mumbles, stopping her work and going to the other wall. Thankfully, the painting was not ruined. The screw just came out from the wall. She goes to the storage room to grab a drill, then makes another hole in the wall. After setting a new screw in, she tries lifting the painting, struggling to do so.

"Need some help," someone says. She sets the painting down and looks behind her, seeing a boy with blond hair and light eyes. She pauses, and he moves forward to take the painting, setting it up on the wall.

"Thanks," she says, and he nods. "What are you doing in here?"

"I thought maybe the place was open. I didn't know work was being done," he says, smiling down at her. Clary takes a deep breath, smiling back.

"Yeah, I'm just volunteering here."

"Oh? How long have you been working here," he asks.

"About two months. I enjoy it. I'm an artist," she says, then bites her tongue. It was strange, to talk to much to a stranger. He nods, looking at the painting.

"Nice. I just thought I'd stop by..." He sighs deeply, sticking his hands in his pockets. Clary nods, looking back at the painting. She was nervous. Socializing had never been her strong point. What was she supposed to say? He breaks the silence. "So, can you go for coffee?"

"Coffee? I'm kind of working right now," she says, and he laughs, nodding.

"Right. Well, I can go out and get one. What do you take?"

"What do I... well, I don't know. A medium double," she says, and he smiles at her and turn for the exit.

"I'll be back soon," he says, and she watches him go.

"What the hell was that," Clary says, and a laugh escapes her. This guy was interested in her? Her? He was cute, too... angelic features, blonde hair and hazel eyes that almost looked gold. He was extremely good looking, and he just wandered in from the street. Interested in her? Clary had to admit, she was interested in him too.

She goes back to the other painting, setting it up on the wall. How would her boss react when she found out that Clary had a man coming here to share coffee for her? No one was even supposed to come in.

"I should have locked the front door," Clary says, but her heart doesn't feel that. Her heart wanted this man to just walk into her life. A funny feeling hits her stomach, and she pushes it down. This man only wanted coffee with her, nothing more.

True to his word, he comes back.

"I got you a large," he says to her, handing over the cup. She takes it, sipping slowly.

"Thanks," she says.

"No problem. So, you say you're an artist," he says, and she nods. "What kind of art do you make?"

"Painting. Drawing. I'm getting more in sculpting," she replies, and he nods back. "Why... I'm sorry, why did you want to buy me..."

"Because you're cute," he says, and she smiles, hiding behind her cup. "It's true. I thought maybe we could get to know each other more."

"Well, what do you want to know," she asks him.

"Are you in school? Where do you work? What do you like," he says, and she shrugs.

"I'm in school, graduating in a month. I work here, for now, but it's not really work, just volunteering. I like art mostly... books are alright. I'm more of an indoor girl," she says, and nods his head, turning to look around the art studio. He crosses the floor to a seat near the exit, sitting down and clasping his hands together as he stares at her. She walks over to him.

"What do you do in school?"

"Well," Clary says slowly, grabbing one of her curls and twisting. "Just work. I'm mostly focusing on art, I want a career in that area."

"Quirky," the boy says, smiling. "Sorry, what's your name again?"

"Clary."

"Nice. I go by Jace. So, can I have your number?" He asks, smiling wider, and she nods, pulling out her phone. He takes his out too.

"689-6574," she says, and he types it in.

"Mine is 673-9076," he says, and she types it in as well. "I'd really like to chat more. I'll leave you to your work now... maybe you can bring me back here when the place is open."

"Will do," she says, and he gets up, turning for the exit. His jacket brushes a sculpture, and it falls to the floor. Clary gasps, but his arm whips out, catching it just in time. He sets it down, looking back to grin sheepishly at her, and Clary finds herself giggling.

"Bye, Jace," she says.

"Bye, Clary."

* * *

Raphael Santiago grabs his backpack, opening it to drop in the a bag full of smaller baggies. He puts the bag on, then turns and heads out the apartment he shares with himself.

It was a beautiful day outside, not too warm, not too cool, with wind that breezes softly. He gets into his car, driving down to his client's place. His client requested a delivery from Camille, so now Camille was sending Raphael. It was his job to do this. He wasn't sure if he'd stay in this particular trade forever, but for now, it was offering up a lot of money.

When he gets to the place, he gets out of the car and walks down the street to the apartment. It wasn't too shabby, a nice little place in a nice area. He holds onto the backpack's strap, a little nervous.

The person he was delivering to was in the force. He was an investigator. This man could report Raphael for the drugs he was selling, but he never did. And Raphael was pretty confident he might never.

He crosses the street, thinking in his head about this client, when suddenly he his tugged from the back of his shirt.

"What the-" Raphael starts to say, just as a car goes by. Breathing heavily, Raphael turns around to see who pulled him back.

"Almost go hit there," the man says, standing back. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses on. He almost looked nerdy, like a book person. Raphael nods, hiking his backpack up.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," the man says, and they cross the street when no cars come. Peculiarly, they walk up to the same apartment, ascending the steps together.

"Do you live here," the man asks.

"No, just making a delivery," Raphael says.

"What kind of delivery?"

"The personal kind."

"Fair enough," the young man says, laughing as he looks Raphael up and down. Raphael lifts his chin up, getting in the elevator. He clicks the number three, and the stranger sighs.

"Same floor," the man says. Raphael nods, and they go up with each other in silence. Once they're on their floor, the walk down the hallway together, both stopping at door three.

"Same place," the man laughs. Raphael knocks on the door, and they wait in silence.

Then the door opens.

"Hey, Valentine," the man next to Raphael pipes up cheerfully. Valentine nods, standing aside.

"Hello, Simon. Raphael."

Simon walks in, and Raphael follows. Valentine closes the door, saying, "Clary will be home soon, Simon, just wait in her room."

"Kay," Simon says, walking down the hallway and disappearing around the corner. Raphael walks into the kitchen, taking off his bag and setting it on the counter.

"Boss made up some really good stuff," Raphael says, opening his backpack. He takes out the large bag, and pulls some smaller bags filled with white power. "How many you want?"

"Three," Valentine says.

"Alright." Raphael hands over three little bags, and Valentine hands over money. Raphael closes his bag and pulls it back on, just as Simon comes back in.

"Hey, you think I could get some water," Simon says, not waiting for Valentine's reply as he goes over the cupboard to grab a cup. Raphael sighs, looking over at Valentine, who has already pocketed the baggies.

"He pretty much saved my life, you know," Raphael says, and Valentine raises his eyebrows. "Outside, nearly got hit by a car. This guy pulled me back."

"Nice of him," Valentine says, and Raphael nods, turning and heading for the door. It was strange for a dealer to make small talk with a client. Raphael leaves the apartment, heading for the elevator, pulling out his phone to look for his next client.

His next deal was at a club run by Magnus Bane.

* * *

Magnus Bane owned Edom, a club with a stage for either bands, or dancing. Tonight was going to be Jazz night, which only happened once a month. He sits at a counter, leaning against the table and looking around the room. It was only evening right now, so some people were just starting to walk in. He liked socializing, making new connections, learning new things.

But right now, his attention was on a young man.

He was tall, had some muscle, wearing all black and had dark hair. Just Magnus' type. Magnus order a drink, sipping on it before he walks over to the man.

"Hello, I'm Magnus Bane," Magnus says, setting his glass down. The man straightens up, turning toward him.

"I'm Alec. Alec Lightwood."

"Nice to meet you Alec. I noticed you weren't with anyone," Magnus says. Alec nods, waving the bartender over.

"I'm with my sister, she's at that table over there," Alec says, pointing to a corner. There was a girl and two men, sitting and chatting. Magnus nods, glancing at Alec.

"Nice, nice. So, do you like jazz music, Alec?"

"It's alright I guess. Do you," Alec asks, and Magnus nods.

"Yes. This is actually my club you know."

"Is it? You look rather young," Alec says, and Magnus nods again.

"I'm twenty-two. It was my dream to open up a club, my father generously donated the money for it. So, Alec..." Magnus pauses, running his thumb on the side of his glass. "Do you like men?"

"I... I don't know," Alec says, a soft blush appearing. He looks down, then up when the bartender arrives. "Could I have a beer? Tall?"

"As you wish," the bartender says, nodding at Alec, then nodding at Magnus. Magnus stares at Alec.

"You don't know if you're gay or not?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Alec says, turning to lean on the table, staring down at it. Magnus follows his gaze, staring at the dark blue counter.

"Do you dance, Alec?"

"Badly."

"Want to dance," Magnus asks. Alec shakes his head. Magnus sighs. "Not a people person?"

"You can say that," Alec replies.

"I'm a people person. Come on, biscuit, dance with me," Magnus says, standing up and holding out a hand. Alec stares at it, when suddenly they're interrupted by a young man.

"Hey, Magnus, someone phoned Camille for something," Raphael says. Magnus sighs, staring at the boy he likes to call 'friend'. Raphael regrets that title.

"Well, I wonder who it is. Let's go check out the back. Sorry Alec, duty calls," Magnus says, taking his drink and going behind the bar, to a back room. There is a black couch, which Raphael sits in. Magnus sits in a chair. He was rather fond of the décor he chose himself, there was a lot of blue and purple. The two colours blended well together.

"I don't see anyone here. They must have left," Magnus says. Raphael nods, taking off his backpack. Wearing a backpack with a suit could draw attention, so Magnus didn't understand why the boy chose it. "Can you stay long?"

"I have nowhere else to be. I'll wait," Raphael says. Magnus nods, leaning back in his seat. Raphael opens up his bag, taking out another bag.

"If someone comes in that isn't drug-friendly, we could both get in trouble. You know how I feel about you coming here," Magnus says. Raphael nods.

"Don't act stupid. Only your people come in. We're safe," Raphael says. Magnus nods, crossing his arms, when suddenly one of his singers, Etta, comes in.

"Oh, great, you're here Ralph. Some of my friends are looking for a good time," Etta says, taking out some money. Raphael counts it, then hands over some small baggies, which Etta takes. She winks at Magnus, "See you, Magnus."

"Bye, Etta," Magnus sighs, watching her go. He looks at Raphael. "That's it for our time, I suppose."

"It is. I'm just going to take a moment to check my messages," Raphael says as he pulls out his phone. Magnus nods, then pulls out his phone, deciding to make a few phone calls himself. He phones Camille first, figuring he can ask her to stop sending drug dealers to his club. Her voice mail comes on, so he makes a different phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, it's Magnus," he says. "Can you get a message to Camille to stop sending dealers over to my club? I don't need a bad reputation."

"I'll have a word with her about it. Anything else?"

"Not really, no."

"Bye Magnus."

His father hangs up, and Magnus puts his phone away. His father had a way of being curt. Unless, of course, he was trying to get something he really wanted, then he could turn on his charm. Magnus sighs, standing up and heading for the door.

"Raphael, I'm going away now. Spend as much time here as you need," Magnus says. Raphael doesn't answer him, so Magnus keeps on walking to the bar, looking around for his new blue eyed friend. Except now, he was sitting at a table with the woman that was his sister, and they all seemed to be having a lovely time. Not wanting to interrupt, Magnus sits at the bar alone and finishes his drink, soon ordering another one.

* * *

Feeling ecstatic over his team just winning another game, Jonathan drives over to his parent's apartment. He gets a text, stopping at a red light to answer.

 _Where are you?_ It was from Isabelle. Jonathan is quick to reply.

 _Heading to my parents. Where are you?_

 _Drinking with some photographers. Can you hang out tonight?_

 _Maybe another night,_ he replies to her, putting his phone away and driving off. He liked Isabelle, he really did, but it had been a few weeks since he had checked up on his parents. In quick time, he's back at his old home, parking his car and climbing out. The wind was picking up, and the air was chillier now. Crossing his arms, he walks up the front steps and goes inside, taking the elevator up.

He knocks on the door when he arrives.

"Jonathan, hello," his mother, Jocelyn, says as he walks in. They hug, and she steps back, clasping her hands and smiling up at him. "We weren't expecting you."

"I know. I have a present for Clary, where is she?"

"Finishing her supper. She's eating late today, she was busy on the phone talking to a _boy_ ," his mother says, turning and leading the way to the kitchen.

"Where's dad," Jonathan asks. He now had problems talking to his father, ever since he found out about a certain problem.

"The study. He's working on some papers," Jocelyn says. Jonathan remembers being in the study once, and only once. It is new, it used to be Jonathan's old room. But now his parents used it as an office and art studio. Jonathan goes the fridge and grabs the orange juice.

"So, Clary and a boy," Jonathan says, pouring a glass. His mother nods, standing aside with her arms crosses. He smiles at her. "Have you met him?"

"No, they just met today. What did you bring her?" His mother asks. Jonathan reaches into his jacket's deep pockets and pulls out package.

"Brushes. They're small, and have tiny tips. I thought she could use those kind," he says, and his mother nods. Sipping his orange juice, he walks past her. "I'll be back in a moment, I'm just going to check on Clary."

He walks down the hallway to his sister's room, knocking on the door. He can hear her quietly say come in, and he goes in. She grins widely, making his heart light up.

"Jonathan! You're here!"

"I am. I bought you a gift," he says, holding out his hand that has the package. She takes it from him, staring through the plastic at the brushes.

"That's nice, Jonathan. I can use these ones for details," she says while standing up, walking over to her desk and setting them down with other brushes. She takes a seat in her chair, and he sits down on her bed. "So, what have you been up to Jonathan?"

"Nothing much, Clare-bear. Mom told me you were talking to a guy," he says, and she smiles widely.

"Yes, a new guy! I met him today, he bought me coffee. He's handsome," she says. Jonathan can see her smile shy, the way her eye were glowing when she talked about this boy. Jonathan nods, pulling out a cigarette. He just hopes she doesn't run into trouble.

"Mind if I have one in here, Clary?"

"Go ahead," she says, and he lights a smoke. He takes a few drags, thinking thoroughly.

"So, do you know much about him? What he does, what he likes, what his family is like," Jonathan asks. Clary nods her head.

"I asked him on the phone. He likes sports, having fun, going on adventures. He's an only child who lives with his grandmother," she replies, looking down. The smile doesn't move from her face. Jonathan nods, taking another long drag.

"Well, if you ever need me to kick his ass, I happily will."

"Jonathan!"

"I'm just kidding, Clary. I should go check up on dad," he says, and Clary nods. Jonathan stands up and heads to the hallway, going to the room at the end and knocking. His father says come in, so he does, finding Valentine sitting behind a desk covered in papers. Jonathan takes a seat in a second chair, taking another drag.

"You know how I feel about smoking, Jonathan," his father says. Jonathan nods, taking another drag.

"I just wanted to ask how you're doing."

"I'm doing fine," Valentine answers. No words are spoken for a minute. Valentine writes, Jonathan stays sitting. The boy contemplates asking his father about his drug problem... no, that could be avoided for now. Everyone would find out the truth eventually.

"That's great. Well, I'm going to see mom now," Jonathan says, standing up and going to the kitchen. His relationship with his father wasn't exactly stressed, just void of emotion. His relationship was his mother was maybe a bit stressed, only since Jocelyn always wanted to baby him. And Clary, well, he and Clary got along just fine. More than fine, really. Jonathan was always happy to see his little sister do well.

In the kitchen, he sits down at the island. His mother pushes a plate across the counter.

"I got you something to eat," she says. Jonathan gratefully accepts the plate of lasagna, immediately tearing it up.

It was nice to visit home.


	2. Chapter 2

The Autumn Party

Chapter Two

Alec watches as his sister talks to the two men. One seemed quiet, nice, the other louder. But both are way to close to her for Alec's own comfort. Sighing, Alec takes a walk toward the other side of the room, opening a door to the smoking area. A nice little area with a railing, overlooking the street. He takes a seat, watching some other nearby people partying. Not exactly how he planned to spend his Wednesday night, but he was already here so he might as well enjoy it.

He stares at the doors, watching the club owner come outside right then. Magnus Bane. The man was walking around, interacting with various people, sharing some laughs. And soon, he notices Alec again, sitting alone.

"Hello Alec. Sorry I got swept away by our earlier conversation." Magnus says, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. Alec nods, sipping at his drink, unsure of what to say. "So, am I crazy for thinking I might have a shot with you?"

"Are you always this straight forward?" Alec asks with a quick glance, looking away just as fast.

"Usually. Do I have a shot with you?"

"And you are relentless too," Alec sighs. Magnus sighs, sitting back in his spot.

"Sorry if I'm too pushy."

"No. It's fine," Alec says, taking a drag of his cigarette. He stares at Magnus. "Why did you want to own a club?"

"I'm a socialite. I like to direct people where to go, who to hit up. I've always been that kind of person. And who wouldn't want to own the hottest club in town," Magnus says with a laugh.

"I thought that Pandemonium was the hottest," Alec says. Then he bites his tongue, realizing how insulting that sentence must have sounded. If he is insulted, Magnus brushes it off.

"It is. I'm going to be their new competition."

"That's a big goal."

"It is," Magnus admits with a nod. He leans forward on the table, smiling. "What are you up to in life right now?"

"Just finished school. I'm working with a camp team now. My job is teaching the kids archery, and be a helper for rock-climbing. I leave in two days," Alec responds with a shrug, and Magnus frowns.

"And you stay there full time?"

"I stay there for two weeks until I get back," Alec sighs.

"Shoot. Was hoping we could hang out soon. No worries," Magnus says. "Now, I hope I'm not being extremely straight-forward again... but did you want to switch numbers?"

Alec stares at him for a few moments. Magnus was a nice looking guy, rather eccentric. Black hair that was ombre, green near the tips. A blue jacket and black pants, shiny silver boots. Would Alec really want to start something with this guy? He was unequipped to approach this, given that he had no experience in the dating world. Guys who made it clear they were interested in him where... well, they didn't seem to exist. And sure, he caught a few girl's eyes, but he didn't play that field.

"Sure," Alec says finally, taking a risk. They take our their phones, tell each other their numbers.

"Well, Alec. What are you looking forward to this summer? What is driving you right now?" Magnus grins, and Alec smiles, looking down.

"Honestly? I just want to make it through this summer. That's all I want," he says. Magnus says 'touche'. Alec takes another drag.

The doors open, and Isabelle comes up to him, the front of her shirt wet. She places her hands on her hips, staring at Alec, speaking in a clipped tone, "one of them spilled their drink on me."

"Come on, you should go home and change," Alec says standing up. Isabelle huffs a bit, turning and walking away quickly. Alec looks at Magnus. "I'll... I'll talk to you later."

"Sure," Magnus says, and Alec follows his sister out the door. Once they've exited the club, the two walk in silence down the street, with Isabelle breathing heavily. Alec looks up at the darkening sky, wishing the stars could be seen, but of course the lights of New York get in the way. The country is so much nicer.

"Damn it, Alec. Thank god none of it's in my hair," Isabelle says, straightening out her jacket. Alec nods mutely. "Hey, Alec?"

"Yes, Izzy?"

"I was thinking about something. But I need someone to talk to about it," she says, turning to look at him. He nods, waiting. She takes an audible breath. "Well, you know, I do see a lot of guys..."

"Yes, you do."

"And, well, I usually have fun with them. And I'm not looking for commitment... so, I was thinking of becoming an escort. A sugar baby," she says, and Alec sighs loudly, looking at her with narrow eyes.

"That's a terrible idea, Isabelle."

"It's not so bad as everyone thinks. I get money. And I don't always have to _sleep_ with people, I just give them the 'girlfriend' experience. And that's all there is to it," she states. Alec shakes his head, walking faster.

"Isabelle, I can't dictate your life, but you do what you want. Just be careful," Alec says. He wants to say more. _Should_ say more. But, it was _her_ life, and he knows he can't encourage her to change her mind if she's set on something. Both her and him are too stubborn. Alec walks the rest of the way in silence, listening to his sister's occasional chatter. Soon, he'd be at the camp, having a good break. Away from his sister, his parents, and the confusing Magnus Bane.

* * *

Lilith cleans up the table, moves to the bed and straightens it out. Takes her husband's coat off and chucks in in a nearby basket. Then moves to the living room, draping a red cloth over the coffee table. Then to the kitchen, opening one of the red cupboards. She grabs two short glasses, then goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of rum, then the ice. Fills the glasses, plopping some ice in, then goes to the living room and takes a seat, setting the cups down.

After all that's done, she sits there perfectly, looking around the room. She likes cleanliness. And style. Black leather couches are shaped in a square pattern, picture frames of pretty flowers are on the walls. Very few photographs rest on a table, picture of her, and another of a tall man with black hair, and green eyes. There's a third picture with her and the man in it, only she's wearing a mermaid style wedding gown.

The room is picture perfect, so to say. In a way, it was so perfect it almost seems cold. Lilith pulls out a cigarette, lighting it up, waiting for her guest. She takes another look around the room, glancing at the clock, then looking at the door leading to the balcony. The afternoon sun is shining through the curtains, casting a red glow.

Just as she's wondering where he is, the door bell rings. She smiles, standing up and smoothing out her form-fitting gray dress, fixing her cleavage. She walks to the door and opens it.

"Hello," she says, smiling and standing aside to let the man through. He walks in and looks around, then looks at her, eying the cigarette.

"You should really quit," he says, brushing past her to sit on the couch. She sighs deeply, closing the door and locking it.

"I missed you too, Val," she chirps, and she goes to sit down beside. She pushes a glass to him. "Here."

"Thank you."

"So what have you been up to this past week," she says, trying to ease his cool demeanor. He shrugs, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"There was a robbery at a jewelry store. We're looking into that," he says. She nods, grabbing her drink and taking a long sip.

"Is that all," she asks. She pushes forth coldness in her voice, this was the game the two of them play. Act like they're both cold, both harsh. Sometimes, they mix it up with sweet talk, with soft kind words. In a way, the two of them might have been treating this as a joke. Or, maybe it was just her that thought of it that way.

"Yes, that's all," he says, and she takes another sip. He often mentions his wife. Talks about her in a way that Lilith can only describe as a bit tiring, hearing about her every now and then. When you're sleeping with another woman, you usually don't mention your wife, right? Lilith smiles, reaching out to play with the back of his hair. His was pale blond, so blond it practically looked white. Or maybe it was white. She draws her hand away.

"How's the missus," she finally asks. A weird question, she knows, and in a way she is teasing him. But he just shakes his head silently. "Nothing is alright I take it?"

"Why would you want to know," he says, and Lilith tilts her head to the side. Is that anger she hears in his voice? She knows what to do with anger. She stands up, walking around to the back of the couch, positioning herself behind him. She runs her hands through his hair, down the sides of his neck to his shoulders, massaging them lightly. Lilith would call this 'acting like a cat'. Acting like a cat because, she is the cat, sleek and careful, and the man in front of her is the mouse. And she likes to play her men like mice.

She leans down, whispering in his ear, "Let's go the bedroom, Valentine."

He stands up and follows her, and they spend a few seconds just staring at each other. He is just as unreadable as ever. Lilith smiles, tilting her head back, planning out just what she wants to do. He still stands still though, unmoving. So, she walks forward and kisses him, closing her eyes.

When they are done, Lilith begins pulling her clothes on quickly, going across the room to the dresser. She opens it, pulls a baggie out, then settles down by the bedside table, picking up the porcelain platter and pouring the white contents out. She makes four lines, using a rolled up twenty to inhale two of them. She hands the platter over to Valentine.

"Has your wife caught on yet," she asks. It is interesting to her to wonder about the dynamics of this relationship from his side. He shakes his head before snorting the other lines.

"Why are you so interested in her all of a sudden?"

"Just curious," she answers. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

"Where is this coming from," he says, turning to her. "Do you think we're going to get caught."

"It's not exactly that. But, I think I have a good thing going with Asmodeus. And I'm sure you have a good thing going on in your life."

"It's kind of late to start regretting now," he says, turning away from her to lay down on the bed. She watches him stare up at the ceiling. "Why regret when you've already made the mistake?"

She stares at him for a few moments, then lays down too, staring upwards. The ceiling was stucco, white, to match the carpet. She always thought that the carpet was just inviting a dirty spill to happen. And she didn't like to clean up messes. Then again, what did she like? Power. And money. But mostly power, to be a boss. That is what drives her. Realizing how much her mind is wandering, she shakes her head and nods. "You are right."

* * *

Simon goes back stage, still feeling the energy vibrating through him. It is always a sad time when the band is finished playing. He helps his band mates put the stuff away, load it up into the van, before going into the audience to find Clary. His best friend. Love of his life. The feelings weren't exactly mutual, or rather, they were, but in a platonic way. It was all very disconcerting for Simon, but he could get over it. He is still holding out the idea that Clary would fall for him though, even if she has a new guy in her life now. She is sitting in the back as usual, and once she sees him she smiles and runs over, giving him a tight hug.

"Simon, that was great," she says, stepping back. He smiles, lowering his head.

"I'm glad you liked it. Say, you want to go out for a coffee," he asks her, and something starts ringing. She pulls out her phone, holding up a finger.

"It's Jace. Be right back, Si," she says, turning to walk away.

Simon watches her go, his chest tightening. He sighs heavily. _Jace._ He heard all about Jace last night. Clary apparently spent an hour on the phone with him. Talking about life. His work. Her plans for the future. His grandma.

"Yeah, that's fine Clary," Simon says, even though she's out of earshot. He walks aimlessly around, crossing his arms. "Just talk to Jace. About everything. Because I totally don't listen to you, or offer advice either. And it's not like I've been doing that since we were children."

"Keep talking to yourself like that and everyone will really realize how crazy you are," a voice says to him. Simon turns, seeing Raphael, wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and his backpack. Simon smiles, shrugging.

"I have a lot on my mind."

"I see. I watched you performed," Raphael says, and Simon raises his eyebrows. Maybe the boy was another potential fan.

"Thanks," Simon says.

"I didn't give a compliment."

"... right," Simon sighs, sticking his hands into his pockets. He looks Raphael up and down. "Why are you here?"

"Delivery," Raphael says, looking Simon up and down as well. "Why are you in a band?"

"I like music. Hoping to make it big," Simon explains.

"Why make it big? You're after the fame? More likes on instagram? More people to snapchat? Very shallow, but then again, everyone has something going for them," Raphael says, shrugging.

Simon swallows, then asks, "And what exactly do you have going for you?"

Raphael stares at Simon for a few moments, and Simon squirms a bit under the straight gaze. Raphael answers him, "I'm a drug dealer."

"Holy shit," Simon says, then laughs a bit, nodding. "Great. So, I guess you could hook my friend up with some good kush?"

"I know people I work with who will sell that. But that's not what I sell," Raphael says, walking past him. Simon watches him leave with surprise. He didn't sell marijuana? Maybe he sells meth? Shaking his head, Simon turns around and finds a seat to wait for Clary. He sits down and looks around the room. There was a lot of people, but now that the show is over most of them were heading out. Some of them were staying, eating the place's food. Lots of fries and burgers. Simon makes a mental note to buy him and Clary some fries.

When she finally comes back, her face is glowing, and there's a large grin on her face. She says, "Want to go now?"

"Certainly," Simon says, and the two exit onto the busy street. Midday New York is bustling, people are moving quickly. The two of them walk slowly, enjoying the warm sun, but of course she breaks the silence. Not that he was complaining, but Simon felt it would be about that Jace fellow.

"Simon," Clary says, turning to him. Simon looks back at her, eyebrows raising. _Here it comes._ "How would I know to trust Jace?" _Bingo._

"What do you mean?"

"Well. He's hot, for one thing. What if he's just another player," she says. Simon shrugs, looking forward. What should he say?

"Because being hot is automatically and indicator of being a player."

"Well, it's more likely. If you're hot, you can get a lot of people," she explains."

"And yet, _I_ haven't been getting with a lot of people. Are you trying to say something, Clary," he says, chuckling. "Well, in all likely-hood, he probably is a player."

Clary looks at the sidewalk, her lower lip sticking out a bit. Simon takes a deep breath. "But, if he shows he's crazy about you, then it's probably for real."

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," she says, smiling and lifting her chin up. Simon takes a deep breath, looking around. He was giving advice to Clary, about Jace. He shakes his head, and she catches him in the act.

"What is it, Si?"

"Nothing, Clary. Nothing," he says, smiling at her. She nods, and they walk in silence to the coffee shop.

* * *

She sips a brush in blue and slides it down the large canvas. Blend the edges of the smear into the green and yellow background. Then she mixes purple into the end of the smear. When that is done, she steps back and looks at the overall painting. Not very exciting, but she is only getting started. She uses her same techniques to create more blue and purple smears, fading them into the green. The colors are just so artful, so beautiful, she constantly pauses to admire her work.

She can hear the front door open. She lets out a long sigh, and turns around to walk to the door.

"Hey, Valentine," she says, smiling. He nods his head, walking past her to the kitchen.

"Hey, Joyce." He pours himself a glass of water, then sets it on the counter and turns to look at her. She smiles, analyzing him. He didn't look old at all, at most there were a couple of lines. Maybe even some hairs that looked gray rather then white. But, he is still handsome, and so Jocelyn likes to look at him.

He approaches, holding her face and kissing her quickly. The kiss is deep, almost hard, and it takes her a few moments before she kisses back, pushing aside her surprise. They aren't exactly warm to each other anymore. Just hello's and goodbyes, that is their life. It had been that way for maybe a year now, and Jocelyn couldn't quite place why that is. Maybe that passion that young lovers experience just always dies out.

He pulls away, staring down at her, and asks a single question. "Would you ever cheat on me, Jocelyn?"

"What? No, I wouldn't," she says, shaking her head. "Why think like that?"

"No reason. I just worry," he says, not letting go of her. She smiles up at him, lifting up her hands to cover his own. A knock can be heard, and he walks past her to go and answer it.

"Luke," Valentine says. Jocelyn grins, turning around to walk to the front door. Luke walks in with a tired grin.

"Hey, Joyce. Val, we need to go now. Did you check your phone?" Luke looks at Valentine, who shakes his head while reaching into his pocket. "Well, there's been another robbery."

"Another," Jocelyn sighs, and Luke shrugs.

"First, a jewelry store. Now an art gallery. These people are really going cliché with this whole robbery thing," Luke says. Valentine looks up at him.

"You think the two are related?"

"Most definitely. Left no traces... wait, can't exactly talk about it with Jocelyn here," Luke says, smiling at her. "Sorry."

"No, I get it. I'll let you two work," Jocelyn says, turning to go to the living room. She picks up her brush, staring at the painting. Does it need more blue? Maybe splashes of blue. She dips her brush, then whips it, watching the blue paint fly off the end and onto the canvas. Grinning and feeling playful, she whips the brush again. Her days-off are getting to be enjoyable. And worry-free.


End file.
